Bookfield, Midnight Move - Part 2

In the morning, before we went out to sell books, we rode our bikes one block east to a smaller, less grand house than the Epps’. It was still pretty a pretty big house though. It was a two storey center hallway colonial with white wooden clapboards and light green shutters. Mrs. Sanders answered the door. Her hair was completely white and she struck me as how a perfect grandmother should look. In my dream picture the grandmother is thin. My actual grandmother was a fat chain-smoking alcoholic that died when she was 54. There was an apparent kindness in Mrs. Sanders’ face. Mr. Sanders could have been her brother. They were a very cute couple that looked like they were in their seventies.

They showed us upstairs to the room which occupied the western half of the second floor. It looked like the two large bedrooms there had been joined into a rental space. The other half of the second story and the downstairs was occupied by the Sanders. We would be the only renters.

The part of the room in the front of the house had two twin beds and a pull out couch. A counter divided the sleeping area from the kitchenette. There was a stove, small refrigerator and good sized white porcelain double sink. The room was painted light blue. There were no pretty finishes as there were at the Epps’ house, but the space was more than twice what we had now. The bathroom was out in the center hallway against the front of the house. There was no tub, but a shower stall instead.

I loved it. I couldn’t wait to move. The Sanders’ place would really feel more like home. When we came downstairs Mrs. Sanders told us that if we could be home by seven o’clock we could share dinner with them. This was impossible for us, but just out of politeness, we promised we would try. Mary said that she would ride back to Mrs. Epps and tell her that instead of paying her for next week, we would be moving out. We could move to the Sanders’ on Sunday after the sales meeting. We bade the Sanders good bye, and rode off in opposite directions. Mary rode back to the Epps’ and me towards Milledge Street , and open country.

I passed through five points. Traffic was heavy and one car came so close to me that I could feel its exhaust on my leg, right through my jeans, like the breath of a dragon. I continued to the Macon Highway and stopped at the last house I left off on the evening before. By the third house I was in the swing of things. It was a typical white ranch stuck out in the middle of nowhere. It was surrounded by bright plastic toys, suggesting toddlers in residence. I hopped up the wooden porch and knocked on the door.

The woman who answered had long brunette hair. “What do you want?” She seemed to be in a bad mood.

I gave my approach, as usual. I was thinking that this house could be a sale, just based on ‘eyeball demographics’. But the woman’s face slowly changed to rage as I spoke.

“You’re the little yank slut that Hank saw with my husband last night up on Milledge! What were you doing in Joey’s car? You sluts don’t seem to care if a man is married or not!”

“Your husband is the police officer that gave me a ride home? I was flabbergasted.

“Well let me you this: you stay clear of my husband or I’ll find out where you live, come over there, and cut you up with a knife!”

“Well, that’s not a problem...” I tried to say that I was not interested in her husband, but she began to come outside door. I told her not to worry about it as I backed off quickly. She stood on her porch shaking her fist and cursing at me as I remounted and rode off on my bike.

The rest of the day was thankfully uneventful. I got home before sunset and Mary was waiting in the room for me. “We have to talk.” she said. “But not here.” We rode our bikes to the pizzeria on Prince Avenue and ordered pies for each of us. As we devoured the pizzas, she told me what happened.

“Mrs. Epps threw a fit when I told her we were moving out. She was taken totally off guard. She screamed and yelled at me and said that if we moved out she would sue us for breach of contract. What a witch!”

“What are we going to do?”

“I’ve thought about it all day and I’ve got a plan. We should wait until Mrs. Epps is asleep tonight and move to the Sanders’ before morning.”

“Yeah, but Mrs. Epps will know that we left. Won’t the Sanders mind?”

“But she won’t know where we’ve gone and by the time she does she won’t be angry any more. I explained the whole situation to Mrs. Sanders and she doesn’t mind if we move in early. Look, she gave me two keys.”

I felt uncomfortable with the plan, but agreed. We went back to the Epps and laid low until midnight. We spent the time packing our limited possessions. The house was dark and quiet when we went sneaking up to the third floor. We could hear Mrs. Epps snoring softly. Now was the time.

We would have to make three trips to carry all of our stuff to the Sanders’ house one block away. Each of us grabbed a box and headed down the unlit stairs, past Mr. Epps’ television room and out the side door. When we got to the Sanders’, Mr. Sanders was up and held the door open for us. We toted the boxes to our new room. Then, back down the stairs to the street. On our way back to the Epps’ we noticed a black and white police car sitting on an unlit section of the street with its headlights off. We ignored it and went back into the Epps’ house.

We came down again with our next load of baggage. I had this feeling that the cops might think that we were robbing the Epps’. As we walked down to Sanders’, the black and white followed us, about fifty feet back. “Mary, do you think they think that we are stealing from the Epps’ house?”

“We’re not, so what does it matter?” We continued hauling. The cops gave up on following us when they saw where we were going, but they parked located so that they could have full view of our comings and goings. With all of the crime I felt somewhat protected by their presence. I also felt a bit like bait for the murderer on the loose.

On our last trip we left our keys behind and brought the bicycles and sales cases. The journey was much faster on the bikes than it was on foot. I had worked up a sweat hauling my stuff and the cool breeze on the bike was refreshing. We parked our bikes on the Sanders’ large porch and carried our sales cases inside. The move was a success. I was glad that I didn’t have to confront Mrs. Epps and excited to be going to bed in our own little apartment. Mary and I slept well that night at the Sanders’ house.